Page 31 of Point Proven
Ripping a piece of tape with his teeth, he slapped it over my lips, patting my cheek twice before stepping back to admire his work. “Since you want to be a bitch, I’ll silence you like one.” Twirling the hilt, he brought the sharpened tip to the corner of my eye. “I admire your fire, truly, but soon the only thing you’ll remember is the affliction I cause you.”
Nicking my skin, he trailed the blade to my hairline, breaking flesh. My back arched as a muffled scream built in the center of my chest. Lifting my arms, I tried to shove him away from me.
Grabbing my right wrist, he squeezed, spreading my fingers apart. “Hmm, what if I cut off your ring finger?” Tapping the knife against it, he smirked. “We could match.”
Shaking my head, tears tumbled down my cheeks. “Mmm!”
Pressing the blade against my skin, he cut, blood spraying. Agony swathed my senses as I battled him, trying to pull my arm away from his hold. Whimpers fell as I shook my head, doing anything I could to get him to stop.
Sawing at the tip, he hummed. “Maybe not all of it. Just a piece, like that patheticwhoreof yours.”
My nostrils flared with each influx of air, panic building to a point where each breath fractured more than the last. Screams and pleas died out; shock threatened to devour my essence as I settled into the mattress. I’d forgotten about the two bleeding wounds in my thigh, and the consistent fight only caused more of my lineage to pool on the sheets.
About halfway through, he paused his blade, the tip coated in my life force. Bringing it to his tongue, he lapped at it, a groan tumbling as he bucked his hips. “Fuck…”
Struggling to look up at him beneath heavy lids, my eyes rolled slightly, making it nearly impossible to keep my focus.
Twisting to me, his fingers dove into my hair, forcing me to look at him before he smeared my essence across the tape. “Look at you bleed for me.”
“Mmmf…” My vision shifted in and out, the darkness reaching for me with each slowing breath.
“Don’t worry. If you pass out, I’ll bring you back every time. Because this?” He returned to cutting, slicing through the tip of my finger as he severed it with a final swipe. “Is only the beginning ofallI have planned for you.”
I weakly shook my head, a wave of dizziness slamming into me. “Mmm… mmm…”
Knife clattering to the floor, he ripped the tape off, fabric following. He swiped his fingers across my lips, painting them in a hue of crimson. “Lick it.”
“No…” I wasn’t sure if I spoke it or thought it, my body slowly shutting down from the blood loss and building shock.
Squeezing my cheeks, he opened my mouth as his pointer finger glided over the mess of red. With one quick movement, he painted my essence on my tongue before removing his finger and slamming my jaw shut.
“It wasn’t a question.”
Throat instinctively bobbing, my head dipped to the side, coming to rest against his forearm. “Please… No… No more…”
“Then who do you belong to?”
Lips quivering, I swallowed the sob that threatened to burst, knowing that if I didn’t say what he wished to hear, he would go for the man I wanted more than the air I needed to breathe.
“You…”
Groaning, the chain rattled from his release, and with one stroke over his cock, he grinned. “Good.”
The sight was the last thing I registered before my subconscious rescued me from any further torment. And at least in my dreamscape, I was safe with Simon…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OREN
This place was really fucking massive.
Box in hand, I followed after Thorne and Simon, barely keeping up with their pace. They were both ready to get this shit rolling, but goddamn, did they forget I was fuckingshort?
At least I brought something for Leba—Levander, fuck, whatever his name was. It was unseemly not to get a gift, and I didn’t care if he was a Mafia overlord. Gifts were never a bad thing, and based on how this compound looked, he didn’t get them often.
Inside was just the same: drab, boring, and lacking color. Maybe they just needed a feminine touch, someone with at least an art background,I thought, as we headed down the narrow hallway to the big, bad Mafia head’s office.
Running after Simon, I was panting by the time I caught up to him and grabbed his forearm. “Slower… Walk… Slower.”
